The Intersection of Points N and E
by Lynxie Ears
Summary: The hitter and the assassin have known each other for over a decade - and that's plenty of time to get into all kinds of delicious trouble. Eliot/OC drabbles. Sequel to Havana and Boston.
1. Beaten By a Girl

**Title: **The Intersection of Points N and E

**Summary: **Snapshots of Eliot and Natalia's adventures over their years together.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **Alright guys, they're back! This one isn't going to be so much of a continuous story as it is more of a series of Eliot/Natalia one shots that comprise their entire history. I also want to use it to experiment with different perspectives and styles of writing. I have lots of fun ideas already lined up! Thank you so much again to everyone who has followed my last two stories and I hope you enjoy this one as well. Don't forget to review and let me know what you think!

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Beaten By a Girl<strong>

**~August 23rd 1998~**

"It's like fencing?" Eliot stared down a long gray hallway illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights, scanning the placards near each door as he searched for his room number. He had been in training for about a month, but today was his first day in a new course entitled _The Art of Sword Fighting_. It sounded harmless enough, but he had already learned that nothing here was that easy.

"Yeah, but like the kind of fencing where if you're not careful, you'll lose a finger. Or a limb. Callaway is ex-marine. He doesn't fuck around." Nick Gordon matched Eliot's stride step for step. Gordon was in his second year of training as part of the program's medical team and he had fast become Eliot's friend. "That's your room right there man. Good luck," he slapped Eliot on the back.

"Let's hope I won't need it," Eliot ran a hand through his short wavy hair before opening the door to the room.

It was a cavernous space with cement walls and no windows, like just about every room he had encountered here. Along the far wall was a line of nine students, all in various stages of donning the gear they had been issued.

"You!" A gruff voice barked from a corner of the room. "You're late. Are you Spencer?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well here," the mountain of a man flung a white duffel bag square at Eliot's chest. He barely managed to catch it as it crushed the air from his lungs.

"Get over there and put it on. As soon as that's done you're up first."

"Yes, sir," he nodded and jogged over to the wall where the other students had nearly completed the process.

_Damn, he __**doesn't**__ fuck around._ Inside the bag he found a padded chest guard, shin guards, bracers, and a steel mesh helmet - just about the only thing in the bag that resembled traditional fencing gear. He quickly put the pads on over the t-shirt and sweatpants he was wearing as Callaway ran through the course objectives and the shit he would and would not put up with.

"Alright. I want to see what you all can and can't do, and who I'm about to kick out of this class. Spencer, since you decided to join us last, you'll be our first victim. Now, let's see," He scanned the line of slightly terrified men until his gaze fell on the only form that didn't seem to be cowering even just a little. "You," he pointed. "Get up there." His opponent did as they were told, pulling on a helmet before joining Eliot on the mat in front of the class.

It was the last thing Eliot had expected. The figure before him was smaller than he had anticipated, standing a good four inches shorter than him. Even the oversized padding couldn't hide those hips. A woman's hips.

_Seriously?_

She was the only woman in the class and he couldn't stop himself from giving her a once over. She was wearing a black hooded t-shirt and matching Under Armour leggings tucked into worn combat boots. He didn't overlook the fact that she had forgone her shin guards. _Jackpot_.

"You have two minutes," Callaway barked as he handed each of them a well worn saber. "No hitting below the belt and try not to draw too much blood. I 'ent stitchin' any of you up. Other than that, do your worst."

Eliot twirled the sword in his hand. _Damn, this ain't a fencing saber._ _It's like a pirate saber_. _And 'do my worst?' She's a she. Ain't no way she can do that much damage in two minutes. _Eliot thought, smirking under his mask.

Callaway blew a whistle and Eliot's brain kicked into gear. _Might as well make her look good for a few seconds._ He took a swipe at her, which she easily blocked before he swung the sword to her right as she jumped out of the way. A series of stabs followed, as he stepped towards her, each move making him a bit more frustrated than the last as she parried each of his blows. She was fast. And far lighter on her feet than he was. Their motion came to a momentary stalemate, blade locked against blade, muscles trembling against the strain as they stood barely a foot away from each other. She may have been faster, but he was stronger. There was no way she could compete against his brute force.

_Got her now._

Eliot swiftly released his pressure and leaned down to make that crucial swipe for her shins, hoping to slice a few of the laces on her boots and leave a nasty bruise to remember him by. But she somehow anticipated him, jumping over his strike and deliberately whipping her saber upwards, the tip catching the stainless steel mesh of his facemask.

There was a moment of stillness as she landed on her feet and Eliot staggered backward, the weight of their stares piercing each other's masks. The whole room sensed that their sparring match was about to escalate to a level no one expected.

Eliot lashed out at her striking blow after blow, each met with the blade of her sword. He let out an aggravated growl and gripped his saber with both hands, raising it above his head before slashing straight down. He had just made a huge mistake.

She brought her sword up above her head, stopping him. Now he was exposed. The woman kicked him square in the chest, sending him stumbling backwards, struggling for balance. She closed the gap before he could recover, slicing through the padding of his chest protector, feeling the metal of her sword connect with the steel reinforcement of the guard. Eliot reflexively lashed out at her with his left fist but she ducked his punch and whipped around to her right before he felt a blow to the padding over his left kidney. He reached behind him, fingers falling on the warm metal of a switchblade. _She must have hidden it in her bracer._ But there was no time to speculate. She was back in front of him and ready to strike again.

He thrust his saber up in a desperate block as he tossed the knife aside. He knew he had the advantage of strength and he pressed hard against her blade, hoping for a break he'd never catch. She used his momentum to whip her sword around in a circle, flipping the sword from his hand, sending it clattering onto the cement. He threw a right hook but she dropped to the floor, sweeping him off of his feet and onto his back just as Callaway blew the whistle.

Eliot didn't understand what had just happened. He was lying on his back, staring up through dented steel mesh at the blue-white glow of fluorescent strip lights. He had just been beaten by a girl.

The woman picked up Eliot's sword before handing them both to Callaway and pulling off her helmet as she extended a hand to Eliot. He took it and stood up before pulling off his helmet and finally looking his opponent in the eye.

She wasn't at all what he had expected. She was better. Eliot had learned long ago that plenty of women had incredible bodies, just like hers, but a truly gorgeous woman was a shockingly rare find. And yet here he was, face to face with one. She had dark bronze skin, a thin sheen of sweat catching the light across her high cheekbones and perfect nose. Her dark hair was tied back in an unruly ponytail and her full lips were parted in an effort to catch her breath. But her most striking feature was a pair of piercing emerald green eyes. She was the very definition of exotic. He had no idea what the fuck she was doing here. She could have been a movie star. She could have been anything she wanted. Suddenly he didn't mind being beaten at all.

"Well hell, I'd like to see the rest of you ladies live up to that," Callaway barked with a grin as he approached them. "Excellent work," he vigorously shook the woman's hand. "You put up a good fight Spencer," he laughed as he slapped Eliot on the back, obviously very pleased with what he had just witnessed. "You can relax now."

Eliot ran a hand through his short, matted-down curls before picking up the knife from the floor and storing the blade. Engraved on the handle in simple script was the name "Natalia."

"I believe this is yours," he tossed it to her as they made their way back to the wall while the next two students walked up to the mat.

"Thanks," she caught the knife and offered him the faintest hint of a smile before returning to her place in the line of students.

"Natalia," he whispered, testing the syllables under his breath with a smirk. "I like that."


	2. North Korea

**Title: **The Intersection of Points N and E

**Summary: **Snapshots of Eliot and Natalia's adventures over their years together.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **Okay, a few notes before this next chapter. alinaandalion has a cool idea for Leverage Fanfic Awards going on now. Check out her stories for the one with the details (and some other really good stories)! Get those votes in!

Also, mfaerie32, I can assure you that this story will be just as steamy as the last two. They wouldn't be Eliot and Natalia otherwise!

Just a heads up, this will be non-sequential, but I will always give dates, so do keep an eye out for those. Other than that, this chapter does contain minor Eliot whumpage so be warned! Hope you like!

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: How Eliot Got Out of North Korea<strong>

**(Minus the Sapphire Monkey)**

**~June 14th 2001~ Washington DC**

"Miss Natalia!"

"Jerry, how many times have I told you to just call me Natalia?" The assassin embraced the man who stood up from the array of buttons, switches, and blinking lights.

"You'll have to tell me at least a million more Miss Natalia." Jerry Smith was the head of the agency's radio room, a fortress of state of the art radio technology where he monitored outgoing transmissions from encrypted frequencies around the world. The information was fed into a supercomputer he lovingly called Lolita before he painstakingly combed through each and every one, sorting for information that could prove useful. Jerry was the son of a jazz musician and a lounge singer, a New Orleans native, and his jambalaya - Natalia was sure - had to be one of the seven wonders of the culinary world. He didn't let many people into his lair, but he considered Natalia a good friend, and an exceptional agent.

"Sit, sit!" He gestured animatedly at an empty chair near the console, waiting for her to take her seat before he did the same. "Where did you get back from?" The heat from the machines made the room warm and he wiped a handkerchief across his dark skin.

"Anguilla. Just got in yesterday," she leaned back in her chair, indicating a level of comfort that she didn't display around many people. "Davis wanted me to come down here and pick out something interesting to investigate. His idea of a vacation," she grinned at her boss' orders. "Got anything interesting?"

"Hmm, let's see," Jerry drawled as he shuffled through the papers that contained the most recent and potentially promising transmissions. Jerry loved Lolita with all his heart, but he also recognized the importance of paper records, just in case. "I've got South Africa, Uganda, Vietnam, North Korea…"

"Oooh," she perked up in her seat.

"You always did like a challenge," Jerry laughed before handing her the translated transmission from North Korea. "From what I got I think they were talking about a prisoner. Didn't catch from where. Not one-hundred percent on if Lolita translated that one right, it said something about a monkey. Didn't make too much sense to me."

"Jerry," Natalia's voice took on an urgency that he had never heard from her before. "I need the un-translated transcript of all transmissions picked up on this channel 24 hours prior to this one and everything since, and the room number of our North Korean expert. I want Lolita triangulating this position ASAP and text me the GPS coordinates as soon as she's got them."

"Immediately," he was almost afraid to verbalize his next thought, and he proceeded with caution. "What is it?"

"It's Eliot. They've got Eliot."

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><p><strong>~June 16th 2001~ North Korea<strong>

"Where is it?" The voice shouted at him again in Korean. He was kneeling on the floor in a dimly lit room, hands tied behind his back, clad in nothing but cargo pants to guard against the cold of the cell. His vision was blurred as he stared curiously at the smattering of blood that colored the cement, too dazed to realize that it was his own.

A hand collided with his jawbone again sending a fresh wave of metallic-tasting warmth through his mouth.

"Tell us where it is!" Another man slapped the back of his head causing him to hack and spit onto the floor. He almost didn't feel the pain any longer.

"I don't…" he managed to roughly choke out the words, his brain struggling to formulate the sentence in Korean. "I don't know."

"Not good enough!" The first man shouted as he grabbed Eliot's hair and wrenched his head backward, raising a fist to strike again.

He heard a pop, which he assumed was the dislocation of his jaw, as the hand released its grip on his hair. Only, he didn't feel a new throb of pain. Another pop followed it and he saw the second man slump to the floor, staring at him through lifeless, unseeing eyes. He struggled to lift his head enough to see who had pulled the trigger. At that point he was sure he was hallucinating. The sight before him was surely the result of the last firing synapses of a dead man, playing before his eyes the one thing that he thought could save him.

Natalia.

"How…"

"Shh,no time for that now." She tucked her gun into the holster strapped around her thigh before unsheathing a knife from her combat boot. "Gordon get me that bag!" She yelled as she sliced through the rope that bound his hands. A black duffel bag flew through the door and thumped against the cement beside them. "Here," she knelt before him, unzipped the bag and swiftly helped his arms through a Kevlar vest before fastening the Velcro straps. She then pulled a thick jacket over his trembling form and zipped it up against the chill. "This too," she slipped darkly tinted glasses onto his face before tenderly wiping some blood from his chin. "We've got to go. Can you stand?"

"I think so," Eliot ground out as she helped him to his feet, supporting nearly all of his weight as she carried him out the door. The burden was quickly lifted as Nick Gordon slung Eliot's right arm over his shoulder, nearly carrying him as they moved swiftly down the dimly lit hallway.

"The radio…" Eliot whispered.

"I smashed it ten minutes ago," Gordon replied.

"And…" Eliot struggled to speak, "and the guard tower?"

"She's a sniper, man. Have some faith," Nick's sense of humor didn't crumble under the threat of danger.

"We've got company," Natalia remarked.

"Where?" Gordon could see the door, but no guards.

"Behind us. Got him?"

"Yeah," Gordon now supported all of Eliot's weight as Natalia whipped around, drew the guns strapped to her thighs, and opened fire. Eliot heard the shouts turn to screams and finally heavy thuds on the floor in the midst of her gunfire. Nick finally reached the door and pounded on it twice before it swung open. Even with the shades, Eliot's eyes weren't ready for the bright sunlight after a week of confinement. He shut them tightly against the blaze and felt another pair of hands help him into a vehicle. He was aware that Natalia fired off seven more rounds before the transport roared to life and took off. Eliot collapsed onto his back on the floor of the Humvee and felt the glasses being gently lifted from his face. It was then that he opened his eyes to the most beautiful color green he had ever seen.

"You're safe now Eliot," Natalia said softly as Nick went to work on his wounds. "We'll hit the South Korean border in six minutes and we have a Naval Medivac arranged to airlift you to onto one of their ships offshore. You're going to be just fine. But I need you to stay with me okay?"

"The monkey…" he barely whimpered, struggling to stay conscious.

"Fuck the monkey man. You want a monkey, I'll take you to the fuckin' zoo. You've got bigger problems right now," Gordon handed Natalia the bag of Eliot's IV, which she hung on a hook attached to her side of the roof. "He's about to lose it," Nick said in a serious tone directed at the assassin.

"Eliot, please, you need to stay awake. C'mon, you've got a girl to get home to alright?"

"Aimee?"

"Yes, Eliot she's going to be waiting for you," Natalia wiped a cool wet cloth across his forehead and down his cheek, cleaning the caked on blood.

"She's engaged."

"Well even more reason for you to get back home and fix that," she took a fresh rag and wet it, allowing the water to trickle into Eliot's mouth to quench some of his thirst.

"She doesn't want me."

"Well I want you. Stay here for me."

He barely managed to hang on to consciousness as the thump of helicopter blades grew louder. He knew she was there with him for the ride and he heard her barking orders at the ship's personnel to make sure he got the best possible care. She was there the whole time the doctors worked, only a few feet away, not daring to sleep or eat until she knew he was stable and resting comfortably.

He had fucked up. But she had fixed it. She killed for him. She saved him. So long as she was there, he was going to be okay.


	3. Truth or Dare

**Title: **The Intersection of Points N and E

**Summary: **Snapshots of Eliot and Natalia's adventures over their years together.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **Soooo sorry this took as long as it did, but it's a long update to make up for it! Don't forget to review and let me know what you all think!

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: Truth or Dare Gets You Places<strong>

**~September 29th 1998~**

"Alright, alright, what now?" Eliot leaned back on his haunches and deftly shuffled a deck of cards, pleased with himself for winning the third straight game of gin. It was a typical Saturday night at his apartment spent with Natalia, Nick, and the occasional guest. Tonight it was Peggy Sue Miller, Nick's current flame. She seemed innocuous enough with her bleach blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and bubbly demeanor, but give her a pistol and you had better run for your life.

The blonde was currently seated on the floor across from him, feeling the buzz from the three drinks she had downed in the last hour. Her elbows were perched on the coffee table as she leaned over it, staring Nick down as he searched for the shot glasses that Eliot had purposely hid. She looked as though she was wracking her brain for an idea, but the alcohol was making it difficult.

"Tuth or dare!" Peggy blurted out finally, eyes wide as though she had just discovered the cure for cancer.

Natalia looked over at Eliot, sarcastically mimicking the blonde's facial expression, causing him to stifle a laugh. She was seated to Peggy's right, clad in a tight, black, v-neck t-shirt, and blue jeans that clung to her hips, a point that didn't go unnoticed by Eliot. Over the past month they had become virtually inseparable, and Eliot was sure he had landed on the hit list of at least half the guys in their class. It was more than just sexual attraction. Something between them just…fit.

"I second that!" Nick called, his head buried in a cabinet.

"What are you five?" Eliot looked over his shoulder into the kitchen.

"Oh c'mon man, you don't like truth or dare?"

"You do?"

"Then you have clearly never played it while drunk," Nick countered.

"But I ain't drunk," Eliot growled. He and Natalia had only had two beers.

"You will be soon!"

"I think he found them," Natalia was mildly amused at the frown on Eliot's face.

"Hiding them in the oven, good move Spencer," Gordon returned to the living room with four shot glasses and a bottle of tequila.

"Apparently not good enough," Eliot rumbled.

"Oh come on Eliot," Peggy put on a pout and subconsciously stuck out her chest a little.

"Yeah man, you two don't have nearly enough alcohol in your systems," Nick pointed at Natalia and Eliot before he began to pour shots.

"Christ, you _are _five," Eliot rolled his eyes, but didn't exactly refuse the drink that Nick placed in front of him. If they _were_ actually about to play truth or dare, he was going to need it.

"Okay," Nick slammed his hands on the table as they each finished their drinks. "Rules. You must answer the question or do the dare, otherwise you have to take a shot of tequila and we'll all know what a pussy you are. Proceed counterclockwise. You can confer with others on a question to ask or a dare to give. Nothing involving weapons, nothing seriously humiliating, no follow-up questions, no nudity except for the girls," each of whom shot him a look, "and remember, if anyone feels sick, I'm a doctor."

"Not yet you ain't," Eliot grinned as he shot his friend down.

"Who's first?" Nick ignored him.

Peggy's hand shot up.

"Sold to the pretty blonde," Nick pointed at her. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth," she sat up as if in preparation for the question.

"How many boyfriends have you had?" Nick interrogated her, more for his own curiosity than anything else.

"Seven, not counting you."

Nick frowned. "Did you sleep with them all?"

"Hey, no follow-up questions," Eliot called him out for breaking his own rules. He was anxious to get to Natalia's question.

"Truth or dare?" Peggy turned to face her.

Natalia squinted her eyes and considered her options. "Truth."

"What's your number?" Peggy asked as she reached to pour her fifth shot of tequila.

"Wait, pause, what does that mean?" Nick looked from face to face.

"How many people you've had sex with. C'mon man," Eliot barked.

"Chill the fuck out there Cosmo Girl. I'm sorry I'm not familiar with your people's terminology," this directed at Eliot. "Alright, please proceed now that I understand."

"One," Natalia answered coolly as Peggy nearly choked on her tequila. Nick's eyes flew wide in disbelief. Eliot was intrigued, although not entirely surprised.

"How is that even possible? You're like, smoking hot," Peggy ran her fingers through her blonde hair, the no follow-ups rule apparently forgotten.

"Please at least tell me you were in some kind of super committed, long term thing and you did it all the time," Nick couldn't imagine that the woman before him, who practically embodied seduction could have only had sex once, with one person.

"Nope," she laughed. "It was back in junior year of college with a friend. He had transferred out but came back to visit for a weekend. He crashed at my place, there was a little alcohol involved and…" she made a flourish with her hands.

"That's it?" Peggy's jaw dropped.

"That's it."

"We need to buy you male hookers or something. Or female ones. That's cool too," Nick quipped.

It didn't make sense to the others, but Eliot knew her better than they did. Natalia had been damaged somewhere in her past and she still carried the burden of anger, distrust, and pain. He wasn't sure what exactly had happened, but he saw glimpses of it in her eyes sometimes. Sometimes she flinched at even his touch.

"Please tell me that you at least…_you know_…on a regular basis," Nick was still fascinated by the 22 year-old, might-as-well be virgin.

"I believe it's actually Eliot's turn now," Natalia purred as she held Nick's gaze, her stare answering his question. "Truth or dare Eliot?" Now she angled her green eyes towards him.

"Truth."

"Boring," Nick choked out the word concealed in a fake cough.

"How old were you when you lost your virginity?" Peggy blurted out, her words slightly slurred.

"I guess that," Natalia laughed and pointed at the blonde.

Eliot ran a hand through his short curls. "Um, sixteen I think."

"Please tell me that you've done it more than once," Nick gestured at him with the bottle of tequila as he poured himself another shot.

"Yeah man, but it ain't your turn to ask questions. Truth or dare."

"Dare," he triumphantly downed his drink and slammed the glass down on the table.

"Peggy," Eliot stared across the table, "you got your cigarettes on you?"

"Oh, very nice," Natalia clapped her hands.

Being a medical student, Nick was fanatical about his health, with an exception or two made for the occasional night of drinking. But there was one thing he outright refused; smoking.

Peggy placed a cigarette between her lips and lit it before handing it off to Nick, who stared at it as though it was some sort of slimy insect that she expected him to eat. He was torn between taking the easy way out with another shot, or going through with it like a man at the detriment to his health. He decided to take it.

"That'll shut you up for a while," Eliot smirked as Nick purposely blew smoke in his face.

"Alright Peggy, truth or dare?" Nick asked.

"Dare," she narrowed her blue eyes at him, daring him to do his worst.

Nick leaned over and whispered something to Eliot who nodded his head before getting up and going into the kitchen. He grabbed something from the fridge and cut it up before retrieving a box from the cabinet.

"What?" Peggy looked over at Nick who had a mile wide grin on his face.

"I think I have a pretty good idea," Natalia looked up at Eliot, who returned with a small bowl containing a lime he had just sliced and a box of salt.

"You," Eliot pointed at Natalia, "hike that shirt on up."

"Body shots babe," Nick winked at Peggy as Natalia rolled up her fitted t-shirt to just below her breasts and lay down on the floor, propping herself up on her elbows. Eliot poured a shot into Peggy's glass and wet his thumb with tequila, a bit surprised at how coolly Natalia was handling the situation. She only had three drinks in her, and considering it took at least eight to give her a buzz, he knew she was in complete control of her faculties. He wiped the tequila from her bellybutton down to the top of her jeans as she stared at him through smoldering green eyes. His head spun as he sprinkled salt over the tequila. He had never been so close to her. At least not like this. Not with her lying on the ground, her thigh resting against his own, eyes daring him to do the shot himself. Fuck. He should have made Nick do this.

"I'll let you handle that," Eliot handed her the shot glass to place in the deep-v of her t-shirt. She nearly called him out on being unnecessarily shy, but decided it wasn't the time. She took the glass from his fingers and positioned it between her breasts, knowing all the while that she had his full attention. She opened her mouth and Eliot placed the lime between her teeth, his thumb just brushing her bottom lip, sending a chill up his spine. He hurriedly took his place again at the coffee table, backing away from her before he lost his mind.

"Have at it," Nick gestured to Peggy as he grabbed Eliot's sleeve, pulling him to his side of the table for a better view. Peggy crawled around Natalia, positioning herself between her bent legs. The blonde braced her hands on either side of Natalia's waist, dipping her head to lick the salt from her stomach. She moved up to take the shot glass between her teeth and threw her head back before dropping the glass on the floor. Her lips moved up to Natalia's, slowly taking the lime from her mouth, knowing she was putting on a show for the boys. Peggy sat back on her haunches and flung the remnants of the lime at Nick's chest before standing up and sauntering back to her spot at the coffee table.

"Chins up boys," Natalia sat up and rolled her t-shirt down, a smirk on her face as she watched Nick and Eliot try to recover. Eliot was the first to shift back over to his place at the table.

"I think I need a minute…um…alone," Nick swallowed hard.

"You'll get a whole night with me," Peggy cozied up to Nick's side, taking a drag from the cigarette he still had between his fingers. "Natalia's turn."

"Dare."

"I dare you …" she paused and brought a finger to her lips, "…to kiss Eliot."

Her eyes darted over to Eliot's, finding anticipation mixed with a tinge of apprehension. His heart was hammering in expectation, although a part of him didn't think she would do it. But she just stared him down, a flash of something mischievous glinting across her expression.

"A good one now, not half-assed," Peggy clarified.

Natalia sat up onto her knees and rested her elbows on the corner of the coffee table. Eliot leaned in closer, conscious control of his body slipping away. He wasn't about to lie. He wanted her. He had since she whupped his ass a month ago. He felt her wrap a hand around the back of his head, his breath ruffling stray strands of her hair. Her nose brushed against his before the feather-light touch of her lips sent a chill across his skin. It was soft at first as she opened her mouth to take his bottom lip between hers, the taste of her mouth accented by the tang of lime. He met her kiss, slowly at first, testing how far she would go. She didn't hesitate to answer his every move as he became increasingly more desperate for her touch.

"Would you two like to get a room?" Nick interrupted as they quickly snapped away from each other like teenagers who had been caught by their parents.

Eliot didn't remember the rest of the night. Natalia had put him in a trance. Her touch was all he could think about. It was all he craved. He didn't remember what he was dared to do next. Didn't remember Nick actually asking for another cigarette or Peggy nearly throwing up on his sofa. He didn't remember when they left, or the shower he took afterwards to clear his mind.

Natalia had kissed him. Not because she was drunk, not even because Peggy dared her to. No. Not a kiss like that. That was because she wanted to. She wanted him. He wasn't about to let that go.

He threw on fresh boxer-briefs, a t-shirt, and sweatpants, crammed his feet into an old pair of sneakers, stuffed his keys into his pocket and stormed out the door.

* * *

><p>Half an hour after she left Eliot's apartment, Natalia was brushing her teeth when she heard a pounding on her front door. She rinsed her mouth and shut off the light before jogging over to the front door and peeking through the peep hole.<p>

Eliot.

She opened the door to find him bracing himself against the doorframe, his heavy breathing forming puffs of vapor that dissipated into the night air.

"Did you _run_ over here?" She stood aside allowing him in before shutting the door behind him.

"Yeah," he looked into her big green eyes as he kicked off his shoes and tried to catch his breath.

"What for?"

"This," he closed the distance between them and cupped the back of her neck, mashing his lips to hers. He half expected her to pull away in surprise. Half expected her to say 'It was just a dare, Eliot, let it go.' He even expected a slap to the face before she threw him out. When he finally released her she was staring up at him, the look on her face bordering on disbelief.

He was sure then that he had pushed it too far.

He didn't expect her to wrap her arms around his neck and press her lips to his once again.

At that moment it was as though flood gates had just opened. Every ounce of tension in her body dissipated. His apprehension disappeared.

Natalia arched into the solid muscle of his chest, begging him to give her more. He backed her up into the wall of the hallway, hands snaking down her form to her butt before moving under her shirt to cradle the small of her back. She moaned against his mouth and gripped his hair as his lips trailed down her neck. Her skin was just as soft as he had imagined, her lips just as supple, her hair just as silken.

Eliot had played this in his mind time and time again, but even his wildest dreams couldn't compare to the thrill of finally having her in his arms. Her hands reached for the hem of his shirt and he pulled away for a fraction of a second, just long enough for her to peel the fabric from his skin. His tongue swept against hers and she opened her mouth wider to accommodate his kisses.

"Eliot," she gasped, feeling his arousal through his sweats. His hips ground against hers at the sound of his name from her swollen lips. "Bedroom."

Without delay he hoisted her up and she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, never missing a kiss as he complied with her wishes.

Her room was lit only by the orange glow of a streetlight filtering in through the window, but it was more than enough to see by. Half of him wanted to toss her on the bed and fuck her until they both got off. It had been months for him, but years for her, and from the way her body reacted to his touch, she was absolutely starved for human contact. And if she fucked like she kissed, Lord he was in for a good night.

He set her down at the foot of the bed and before he knew it, he was on his back, sinking into her sheets. He sat up against the headboard as she straddled him, shifting around for him to pull off her tank. She had on a simple black bra and at that moment Eliot found himself wondering if she was the kind of girl who always matched her bra to her panties. The thought was quickly wiped from his mind as she adjusted her position to grind her still-clothed crotch against his package.

"Oh god," Eliot's head thumped against the backboard and she grinned something devilish as her lips moved to his neck. She may only have done this once, but she sure as hell knew exactly what she was doing. His hands settled on her hips as she kissed along his jugular vein before laying light nips along his clavicle.

"Off," she whispered in his ear as her fingers found the waistband of his sweatpants. She climbed off of him, at which he let out a grunt of disapproval, before he slipped off his pants and tossed them onto the floor, his keys jangling in his pocket as he did. It was then he remembered that he had forgotten his wallet, and more importantly, the condoms contained therein.

"Natalia, I don't have…" he was stopped short by a foil packet colliding squarely with his chest as she closed the drawer to her dresser. He liked a woman who was prepared. But then again, it was her; he shouldn't have expected anything less. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the shake of her hip as she shimmied off the cotton shorts she had been wearing. He placed the packet on the nightstand as she once again straddled and kissed him, pressing the skin of her nearly bare chest against his. He ran his hands down her back and up across her ribs to cup her perfect breasts in his hands under the fabric of her bra. He made a note in the back of his mind that Nick officially owed him 20 bucks. They were definitely real.

He twisted his hips just enough to roll them over as he supported his weight with one hand and reached down to cup her heat in his palm. She pressed her head back against the pillow as he ran his fingers over her soaking wet underwear, watching her eyes flutter closed and her lips part from the sheer ecstasy of touch she couldn't control. Eliot leaned back onto his haunches and slipped his fingers under the delicate fabric causing him to gasp at the feel of his skin against hers. Natalia reached out to touch him, her long fingers falling on his muscled thighs, slipping under the cotton of his boxer briefs. She ran them along the inside of his thighs, and he let out a strangled grunt.

"Come on Eliot," she purred, tilting her hips further into his hand. She wasn't shy about what she wanted that's for sure. Eliot pulled his hand away from her, eyes raking over her form below him. She was practically buzzing from the thrill of being touched the way she was. The energy radiating off of her body was making his head spin. This was what he wanted, and now that he finally had it, he was almost hesitant. Almost afraid. He genuinely loved their dynamic; loved the trouble they got into together. But he couldn't help the nagging thought in the back of his mind that this would change things. Change _them._ He wanted to fuck her, sure. He wanted to feel every inch of her soft skin under his hands. Wanted her lithe, warm body pressed up against his. He was dying to be inside her. The sight of her nearly naked, sprawled out before him with his name on her lips like this was the very stuff his masturbatory fantasies were made of. But he was afraid that by having her, he would lose her.

He was shaken from his thoughts by her foot toying with the waistband of his underwear.

"I want you Eliot."

At that, he gave in.

He paused for a second before leaning down again to devour her mouth, ripping off her underwear and then his. She snaked a hand between them as he ran his tongue across her lips before delving deeper into her mouth. Eliot's body jerked as he felt her fingers wrap around his length, his brain beginning to short circuit. Natalia moaned against his kiss once she was finally able to feel him. She had her suspicions about his size; the way his jeans fit on the days he opted out of underwear, the one time she had seen him in swim trunks, the way he had felt underneath her just minutes before. They were all little bits of data she had subconsciously stored over the past few weeks out of a primal kind of curiosity. Only, they didn't quite add up to just how big she found he was now that she was stroking him in her hand.

He reached over to the nightstand for the condom he had tossed there earlier, leaning back off of her before he ripped the foil open. Natalia sat up and watched him deftly roll the latex down his length and bit her lip in anticipation. He stalked back up to her, claiming her mouth as his own before she gently pushed him just enough for him to lie on his back. She straddled his hips and he ran his fingers across her thighs before fitting them perfectly against the small of her back.

"Are you sure you don't want me to…" Eliot began slowly, his sentence stilled by her fingers on his lips. He was fully aware that he was well endowed, but he had enough of a conscience to care what he did with that endowment. The fact that this was only her second time still weighed in the back of his mind. He felt like he might as well be deflowering a fuckin virgin.

"Shh…" she sighed calmly. "I've got it, I promise. No pressure Eliot." Something about the tone of her voice and the glint in her eyes made him believe her. She reached behind her and positioned him against her wet folds as he gripped her hips, slowly pulling her down into his aching dick. Natalia let out a gasp at the feeling of being penetrated as Eliot pressed his head back into the pillow and let out a growl. She was so perfectly tight that he thought he might lose it right there. He bucked his hips up into hers as she rocked against him, setting a pace which he quickly matched. Natalia braced a hand on either side of his head, hair tumbling over one shoulder as she slipped her tongue into his mouth. His hands swept across her back and under the clasp of her bra as he thrust up into her harder, all self control slipping from his grasp. She threw her head back and planted her hands on his chest as she rode him, shifting her hips just so, causing him to hit her g-spot. Eliot reached one hand up to tangle in her long, dark hair, and ran the other one over her thigh before rubbing small circles over her clit with the pad of his thumb.

Natalia whimpered his name as her rhythm began to fall apart, becoming absolutely desperate for release. Eliot grabbed her hips and rolled her over onto her back before sheathing himself inside her again, lips devouring her neck, hips slamming against hers. She wrapped her legs around his waist and fisted his hair, her breath coming in heavy gasps.

"Harder Eliot," she breathed, and a devilish smile crossed his face at the thought of making her sore in the morning. He sat up and pulled her butt onto his lap, using the strength in his thighs to drive into her, his thumb working her clit.

Eliot watched her mouth fall open, her back arch, and her hands rip at the sheets as she came. Her walls clenched around him over and over as she confirmed what Eliot had hoped; she was definitely a screamer. And one with a dirty fuckin mouth at that. With his name and a curse on her lips, Eliot came with a roar that nearly pushed her over the edge again.

Natalia looked up at him, the muscles of his chest and stomach covered in a thin sheen of sweat, highlighted in the glow of the streetlamp. His short hair was plastered to his temples and the nape of his neck, and his big blue eyes were still shut tightly as he fought to catch his breath. After a few seconds he slipped out of her and crawled up to kiss her, languidly sucking on her lips as she ran her fingers over his biceps. He soon pulled away from her and stepped into her bathroom. Natalia unclasped her bra and tossed it onto the floor before rolling over onto her stomach.

Eliot leaned against the doorframe, his right forearm braced above his head, not really believing the sight before him. He ran his eyes over her legs tangled in the rumpled sheets, the curve of her bare ass daring him to touch her again. Her dark hair was splayed across the pillow, huge green eyes trained on his blue ones, with one arm resting out in front of her, almost beckoning him to come back. She knew the next few seconds were more crucial than she could bear to admit. Eliot had two choices; climb back into bed with her, or get dressed and leave like this never happened. She tried to tell herself that she didn't care either way, but found herself holding her breath as she waited.

"Ain't no way in hell you've only done that once," Eliot smirked before running a hand through his hair.

"Well twice now actually," she murmured huskily.

Eliot crossed the distance to the bed and vaulted over her before landing on the mattress with a thump. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed his body to hers before nuzzling her ear. "Wanna make it three?"


	4. The Argument

**Title: **The Intersection of Points N and E

**Summary: **Snapshots of Eliot and Natalia's adventures over their years together.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **Wasn't planning on updating so soon, but this one nearly wrote itself. Figured there was no point in keeping it from you guys, so here it is! Just as a warning, it gets a bit deep. Let me know what you think.

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: The First and Last Argument They Ever Had<strong>

**~March 14****th**** 2001~ Natalia's home in Florida**

"He's a liar Eliot. He's a fucking liar and I don't know why you can't see that," Natalia slammed the front door so loud that Eliot cringed for the door frame's sake. "I have no idea why you would even consider risking your life for a job like that." She practically ripped her shoes off of her feet and threw them aside before she stormed off through the living room and into the kitchen.

"Because he's a friend, that's why," Eliot yelled before stalking into the kitchen after her.

"A friend," she stared at him in sarcastic disbelief. "You need some new fucking friends."

"You met him _once_ Natalia, how the fuck can you even form a cohesive opinion from that?" He screamed through the higher octaves of his voice.

"Because I'm good at things like that, alright?" She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and mashed the door closed none-too-lightly.

"Why? Because you're fucked up? Get over it Natalia we all are. Just because you fuckin' hate people and couldn't trust anyone if your goddamn life depended on it doesn't mean that you need to go tellin' me who I should and shouldn't trust. I can fuckin' take care of myself," he slammed his fist down on the granite of the kitchen island. Then he started to regret what he had just said.

She was standing opposite him, both hands braced against the edge of the counter as if to stop her from springing over it and strangling him. Her green eyes were wide and livid as she took a ragged breath to calm herself.

"Yeah, Eliot," her tone a whisper as she breathed through clenched teeth, "because I'm _fucked up_."

"Natalia, I didn't mean…"

"Do you know what it's like to have people lie to you your entire life? To have people tell you how much you're wanted and appreciated and loved, and then turn around and throw all of that back in your face?" His lips parted and he offered a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. "Well that's my _life_ Eliot." He hadn't expected this. And he certainly hadn't meant to trigger it.

"My parents told me they loved me and then left me to grow up by myself while they watched. My father was nothing more than someone who came to my house to sleep every night before leaving for work again at 7am. In my mind, it was my fault that he didn't want to spend time with me. Somehow, somewhere, I fucked up. Every fight between them was my fault, even when it had nothing to do with me. Because something had to cause it, and unless I knew what it was, I figured it had to be me. Who else could it be?" She screamed at him like he had an answer.

"I was nineteen before someone ever told me I was beautiful. That was the first time anyone ever touched me in a way that I craved. The first time I _trusted _someone. And you know what happened? I was cheated on with the definition of _homely_. That was my fault too. My fault because what I was, wasn't good enough for him. My fault because I wouldn't just lie down and agree with the _bullshit_ that came out of his mouth on a regular basis like she did. My fault because I _hurt_ when I found her pillow at his place. My fault because I was jealous that she spent _every_ weekend with him while we were together. That was _my_ goddamn fault. And _that's _why he didn't want me. _That's _why he beat me down the way he did. I gave my all, and my all isn't ever good enough to keep someone around. Everyone I've ever considered important has left me save for two people. My brother. And you. Everyone else told me to suck it up and move on. So that's what I did. Because _no one…gives…a fuck _about what happens to you_._" Her body was trembling with the energy of her conviction.

"But when you spend the first twenty something years of your life being told pretty things while being kicked in the stomach, you _break_ Eliot. You break to a point that can't really be fixed. After that, everything is inconsequential. _That's _why I don't trust anyone. _That's _why I'm so critical. So that I can run at the first sign of trouble. I hate people before they have a chance to hate me. Because apparently something's so wrong with me that they always do. I'm too strong-willed, too smart, too independent for my own damn good. I thought that was a good thing but life apparently doesn't agree. It never has. That's why I don't break. Things have to be whole to break, but dust can't get any smaller than it already is. _That's_ where I've been for the longest time. And frankly, I don't know if I can ever completely turn that around. I don't know that I give a _fuck _anymore." Her form sank almost out of exhaustion. "So go preach your bullshit somewhere else, Eliot." She weakly reached for her water bottle and turned to walk upstairs. "I've already heard enough to last me the rest of my life."

Well, there it was. Over three years of wondering what made her tick; wondering how she could be so brutal, so cold, so analytical in every aspect of her life had all been brought to light in the span of four minutes. It was what made her an exceptional assassin, but robbed her of the chance to be a human being. She didn't show her emotions because the world used them against her. She didn't believe in trust because no one had ever shown her that she could. He had done something horrible. But he was simultaneously glad and crushed. Glad that now he had the missing piece to her. And crushed that she bore such pain the way she did.

Eliot left her alone for a good half hour, having learned long ago that she needed space. When the time felt right, he knew he would find her out on the dock, thinking. He changed out of his jeans and into sweats and the softest t-shirt he could find, so as to not expose even her skin to any more unnecessary discomfort.

Natalia owned beachfront property in south Florida, the ocean being the only thing that could calm her when no one else was around. He stared up at the full moon before scanning across the deck and out over the expanse of sand, finding a tiny form sitting hunched over on the dock.

She heard his footfalls on the worn wooden boards before feeling him sit down right next to her. She was scrunched into a ball, her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them, almost in an attempt to be so small that she would disappear.

"You're beautiful you know," Eliot whispered softly. If no one else had told her and meant it, he wanted to make sure she knew.

"It's fine Eliot, you don't have to fix anything," she roughly wiped at a tear with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "Everybody _is _fucked up, just like you said. I mean, who doesn't have daddy issues right?" She offered a faint smile. "Suffering doesn't make you a saint." Her voice seemed so small. "I'm sorry I brought it up."

"That's not anything to be sorry about momma. Shoulda been let out a long time ago. I had no idea all that was inside," he looked out to sea, not fully sure that she would appreciate his touch at the moment.

She stared down through unseeing eyes at a knot in the wooden planks before them. "You know Eliot, I didn't feel for the longest time. And to an extent I still don't." Her words were crushing his heart. She looked up and over at him before continuing. "But I feel _you_. You were the first thing I had felt in years. And I was afraid of it. I still am. Still afraid that I'm going to mess up, just like I did all those times before."

"You ain't gonna mess anything up," he chided. "All of those things that happened…they're not your fault momma. You _didn't_ mess up. We can't ever really tell why people make the choices they do, but I guess they don't always realize that they're not the ones livin' with the consequences." She shifted to the right and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her head in his chest as he held her as tightly as he dared. She was crying. Not because of what she had been through - her heart had hardened to that years ago - but because here beside her was quite possibly the only person in all the world who cared.

He held her there until the tears stopped. Until she relaxed into his embrace. Until he trusted his voice to speak again without breaking.

"Dunno why you'd want to be some asshole's definition of 'good enough' anyway momma."

"I don't," she sniffed. "But that doesn't mean that it didn't hurt when it happened. Getting left for something less than yourself isn't all…" she searched for the words, "…cupcakes and unicorns or whatever."

"Well, I don't like cupcakes. And unicorns don't exist, so…" She let out a soft laugh as he kissed the top of her head. "Plus you'd make a shitty housewife. I've seen the way you cook."

"Shut up," she whispered with a smile on her lips.

"I'm not goin' anywhere momma. Promise."

Natalia had ended up being right after all. Despite her protests, Eliot took the job, and barely lived to regret it. His "friend" _was_ a huge fucking liar who screwed him over just like she thought. He had no idea, and yet somehow she had seen it all a month before. From that point on, he learned to value her judgment and even went out of his way to seek her advice. There was some kind of backwards logic to her reasoning, he had to admit. But nothing, he thought, was quite worth that kind of pain. He only hoped he would live long enough to help her heal.


	5. Puerto Rico

**Title: **The Intersection of Points N and E

**Summary: **Snapshots of Eliot and Natalia's adventures over their years together.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **Again, super sorry for the delay! I've been sorting out a bunch of things for the summer. This next chapter is from Eliot's perspective in the present tense. Never done it before so I hope came out alright! Again thank you to all of my awesome readers and for the nominations in the Leverage Fanfic Awards (voting going on now)! It's so cool to know that you all dig my stories that much and it really does mean a lot. Hopefully I can get another chapter to you guys soon but enjoy this one in the meantime!

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><p><strong>Chapter 5: Why Eliot Loves Puerto Rico<strong>

**~January 15****th**** 2005 ~ Puerto Rico**

It's 1 am and we've been here for an hour already, but I think the party's just getting started. The DJ just pressed 'play' on that sexy Spanish number that gets her going like nothing else. The one with a beat that won't quit. The beat that turns her into an instant slut on the dance floor.

Yeah. That one.

The first few notes ain't even left the speakers and before I can mentally prepare for what she's about to do, she's got me by the hand, pulling me into the crush of bodies on the floor. Strobe lights slice through the cigarette smoke and in the brief flashes all I can see is hips, tits, and ass.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Ordinarily I'd hate this. Hate the people smashin' into me. Hate the fact that I can't hear a damn thing. Hate the fact that this is a freakin' deathtrap should anything go south. But hell, I've got this bourbon buzz goin' and an assassin in my arms so I think I'm gonna be just fine.

Natalia's got these loose hips, ya see, like quicksilver in your hands. I can feel the eyes as people start to stare. I know what they want, but too fuckin' bad boys 'cause she ain't got eyes for nobody but me. I can feel her back against my chest before I see it happen, followed by that _perfect_ ass on my crotch. These jeans are about to get real uncomfortable.

Half the people in here have no idea what the words comin' out the speakers mean, the other half's too drunk to care. But Natalia, oh she knows. And she's taking full advantage of it. Her skin is burning hot under my fingers from those toned abs down under the waistband of her jeans. She tangles her fingers in my hair and tosses her head back into the curve of my shoulder before I hear her voice in my ear.

"Alleyway El."

And that's why she's my kinda woman.

It's fuckin 70 degrees outside but I swear a chill just shot up my spine. I've got her between me and a brick wall and she just turned into that insane little wildcat with the insatiable appetite for sex. Her fingers are clawin' into my back through this t-shirt and I'd be pissed if it didn't feel so good.

See, this is the kinda shit that gets you arrested. Pinning a woman to the wall in some sleezy back alley with your lips on her neck and your hands up her shirt is grounds for at least a few felonies. But knowing her she's got some kinda government ID hidden somewhere that could get her outta hell itself. Yeah, there it is. That little piece of plastic slipped into her bra. It's a fuckin' free pass for whatever she wants and judging by the way she's rippin' at my jeans, it's me, inside her, right now.

I can barely get it together enough to undo the zipper on her shorts. She makes a move to wrap her leg around my waist but I flip her around instead and shove her into the wall. She'd be lyin' if she said she didn't like it better from behind. Sometimes she just likes to be roughed up and used for a good fuck like the slut she turns into on nights like this.

But hey, I ain't complainin'.

Natalia ain't drunk. She ain't even buzzed. She's just that fuckin' crazy when she lets it all go. With her, sometimes sex is just sex. Purely for the purpose of gettin' off because you need to. And honestly, it's nice. No flood of emotion. No pressure to fuckin' cuddle after when you're all sweaty and just wanna sleep. It's 'I ain't gotta make you breakfast in the morning' kind of sex. _Sometimes_ it's exactly what you want. Like right now.

Natalia lets out this little cry when I'm finally inside her. It's just soft enough not to be heard over the music of the club, but loud enough to make my brain short circuit. Her body between me and this wall, the smell of her hair laced with cigarette smoke, the way she arches up into my chest. No wonder this is illegal.

From the way she's pushing against me I can tell she's getting impatient. I step back, pull her hips to mine and grab her shoulder, slamming into her again and again. This is insane. But not enough to stop. She braces herself against the brick wall and tosses her head back and I can't help but grab her hair and pull until she cries out.

All she can say is 'harder Eliot' and I'll be damned if I ain't gonna oblige. She's ridiculously close now and to be honest, I got this image of a sad little dog in the back of my mind just to hold out long enough.

I get my hand over her mouth just as I feel her start to go over. She knows better than to scream. Not even sure why I did it. Habit I guess. And believe me, its killin' me not to hear it just as much as it's killin' her not to do it. I could go from ice cold to can't hold it back from the way she screams my name alone. I thrust into her one last time, smashing her into the wall again and holding her there, feeling her every breath against my chest as she rides it out. She always likes it deep when she comes. It's like part of her needs to know that you're really there, and the other part of her wants to make you feel every fuckin' spasm so she can steal your sanity as she pushes you over the edge. That's all I need. I bury my face in the back of her shoulder and she reaches back to grab my hair as I come.

There's no time to recover in an alley like this, so we shuffle around quickly to put everything back in place. She stops before we leave, and stares up at me with those huge eyes. Christ, she looks gorgeous with her hair all a mess, that flush on her cheeks, and those bee-stung lips. I cup her face in my hands and kiss her like my life depended on it.

Because this woman is going to be the death of me.

But I can live with that.


	6. A Dream

**Title: **The Intersection of Points N and E

**Summary: **Snapshots of Eliot and Natalia's adventures over their years together.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **This chapter is kind of a funny idea that popped into my head. Hope you enjoy! Sorry in advance for it being a bit lemon-y. ;-)

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><p><strong>Chapter 6: It Was Only a Dream<strong>

**~January 13****th**** 2011 ~ Boston**

"Hello?" He called into the darkness of his apartment, sensing a presence other than his own. He cautiously made his way into the bedroom, unconsciously holding his breath to better hear what he couldn't see. He didn't feel as though he was in danger, but he was on edge nonetheless.

"Parker?" He called as he tapped the metal base of the lamp on his bedside table, allowing warm light to bathe the room. He moved around to the foot of the bed to get a better look. "Who's…"

He was silenced by fingers running over the back of his shoulder.

He felt his body bristle at the touch before cautiously turning around to find a pair of smoldering green eyes.

"Natalia. Wha…" She silenced him by pressing her lips to his, causing him to moan in surprise. His nerves were buzzing and he felt the blood rush to his head, bringing on a feeling of dizzying pleasure. She devoured his mouth, feeling the tension escape his body as he melted into her kiss, running his hands over her trench coat. Natalia wasted no time in slipping her fingers under the fabric of his t-shirt and slipping it over his head, taking a moment to run her long fingers over the chiseled muscle of his abs. He pulled her to his chest and stared down into the assassin's eyes, already dark from the adrenaline coursing through her blood. One corner of her mouth turned up into a smirk as she pulled the sash on her coat before slowly undoing each button, reveling in the feeling of his eyes tracking her every move. She slowly allowed the fabric to slip from her shoulders and pool onto the floor revealing deadly curves encased in red lingerie.

"Damn, girl," he breathed and wrapped his hands around her hips as she kissed him again, running her tongue along his full bottom lip.

"All for you," she purred against his mouth. His mind questioned her presence, but his body betrayed his logic. He felt a hand square against his chest as she shoved him down on his bed and straddled him. He quickly propped himself up on his elbows, hungrily mashing his lips to hers again before slipping his tongue into the assassin's mouth.

Natalia ran her fingers over the taught skin that covered shapely muscle as he sucked on her neck. She ground her hips against the hardness in his jeans, tossing her head back and grinning wildly in satisfaction. He wrapped an arm around her waist and rolled her to the side, covering her body with his. Her hands frantically worked to find the button on his jeans, which she soon had undone. He moaned as she cupped him in her palm, massaging his package as his brain turned to mush. He managed to slip off his jeans and she wrapped one long leg around his, teasing him with the softness of her skin.

He sat back on his haunches, staring down at her perfect form below him. Her soft, full breasts caged in that red lace, her toned stomach rising and falling with every desperate breath, her supple lips parted and flushed from his assault on them moments before. She was perfect. She was always perfect. And right now, she was his. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs and began to slip them down when suddenly he heard something that didn't belong.

Thumping.

It was something like the hammering of a fist on wood, loud, urgent, and unrelenting.

"HARDISON!"

The hacker bolted upright in his bed, his dark skin covered in a soft sheen of sweat.

Eliot was pounding on his front door and screaming his name amidst curses and threats.

_Oh God. Oooooh fuck. Eliot's gonna kill me. I was dreaming about fucking his girl…_

_And now he's here to kill me._

Hardison immediately stumbled out of bed, clad in nothing but boxer briefs, his bare feet slipping on the hardwood floor before he caught himself. His heart was hammering in his ears now, just as loud as Eliot's assault on the door.

"HARDISON OPEN THIS FREAKIN' DOOR OR IMMA…" the hitter's threat was cut short as Hardison flung the front door open, leaving Eliot mid-pound with his fist clenched and raised high in the air.

"The fuck's wrong with you man?" The hitter yelled, his brow furrowed.

"I uh. I was, um. Asleep man. I was asleep," Hardison gestured at his bedroom and swallowed hard as Eliot pushed past him into the living room.

_Act cool man, act cool._

"Nate's been callin' you for the past thirty minutes and I've been bangin' on this door for the past five." His voice was still high pitched and agitated. "He's got a client." Eliot looked the other man over as he folded his arms across his chest. "What the fuck are you standing around for man? Go fuckin' get dressed." Eliot's brow knotted again in annoyance.

_He's got no idea. Yeah. Well, of course not. He can't read my mind. _Hardison started for his bedroom but cast one last look over his shoulder at Eliot, who raised a curious eyebrow.

_Can he? _

_Nah. Nah he can't…_ he thought, more to reassure himself than anything else.

"I'll be out in a minute, man," Hardison called as Eliot went to the kitchen to make himself some coffee.

"There's somethin' wrong wit you…" the hitter mumbled under his breath, pissed that he would have to wait on Hardison even a minute longer. But then again…

He was used to it.


	7. You Look Like Hell

**Title: **The Intersection of Points N and E

**Summary: **Snapshots of Eliot and Natalia's adventures over their years together.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **Apologies for making you all wait so long. I've been working on two chapters at once and neither really wanted to write itself, but hopefully I can get that one up soon too. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 7: You Look Like Hell<br>**

**~May 27****th**** 2003 ~ Florida**

Natalia remembered the sirens, the slam of the concussion grenade, and then blackness.

Faint flickers of consciousness revealed bits of the hours she spent at the mercy of a world out of her control. There was the blinding wash of an overhead light. The murmuring of doctors. A strong pair of arms placing her limp form into a bed. Her bed.

As consciousness flooded back she could feel the familiar protective presence at her side.

"You look like hell," Eliot said in a soft voice, a cautious smile on his face.

"Mmm, thanks Eliot, that's sweet," her voice was husky, her mouth dry. She slowly became aware of more and more of her body, and of just how much it fucking hurt.

Almost immediately her brain kicked into gear. "Did I break anything?" She wasn't sure yet, but the statement made her acutely aware that she had a split bottom lip.

"No. You have a concussion, a dislocated left shoulder, a wrenched knee, and more cuts and bruises than I can count, but no broken bones. You got lucky," He smiled, gazing into her half-lidded green eyes.

"My shoulder," she began as she shifted around to sit up. She could feel that it was wrapped tightly, in an effort to protect her from herself, mostly. Eliot quickly sprung to his feet, ready to help in any way. He knew he should stop her, but he also knew her better than that. He propped a few pillows behind her back as she blinked hard to clear the dizziness that suddenly manifested. "Did I tear anything?"

"Your rotator cuff."He heard her curse under her breath. "The doctors said it was mild. They think you popped the bone back into place before you passed out. Saved yourself a lot of damage." Eliot was still amazed even now. "How on Earth did you manage to do that?"

"A cement wall and some force. What about my head?"

"'Blunt trauma to the right frontal lobe' is what they called it. From when you hit the ground. No internal bleeding, and only mild swelling, but they're still not sure if it scrambled your brain," Eliot knew the potential symptoms of damage; he had smashed his head once in exactly the same place. He was going to watch her like a hawk over the next few days.

"And you," she looked over at him, "how did they know to call you?" Natalia didn't have emergency contacts. She couldn't afford to. There were no special numbers in her phone, no list of people to call in her file. And yet somehow, the only person in the world she wanted to see at the moment was sitting right beside her.

"Gordon was your doctor. They had you admitted under someone else's care but he fixed that fast. He didn't trust anyone else to treat you. Once they had you stabilized he called me. Said that he figured I was the only one you'd listen to."

"He was right," she coughed to try to clear her throat. "I guess he got his wish then. He's been dying to see me in my underwear for years." This had Eliot laughing. She still had her memories. And sense of humor.

"Thank you," she angled her eyes up at the hitter. He had allowed his normally short hair to grow slightly and a stray strand just barely brushed his eyelashes. "I like your hair," her voice was soft and so childlike that he laughed, more at it than her statement. "What happened here?" It became serious again as she frailly brushed the backs of her fingers against the cloth of a bandage strapped to his right bicep.

"Sniper's bullet."

"Where were you?"

"Myanmar."

"Nice," she offered a slight grin.

"Can I get you anything?" Eliot leaned an elbow on the edge of the bed and softly brushed a lock of hair from her face.

"A bath. Some ice," she paused, "and a pack of cigarettes. Not necessarily in that order," she smiled weakly.

"Well momma, I got you covered on one of those," Eliot reached into the pocket of his leather jacket hanging on the back of the chair, and held up a small box wrapped in plastic. Natalia didn't smoke – except on the rare occasion when she was overly stressed. When that occurred, only two things helped clear her mind; smokes or sex. When the latter wasn't an option, she made an exception to her rules. It gave her something to do with her hands, forced her to breathe in and out steadily, and somehow helped her process. At the moment she was torn up, temporarily decommissioned, and in pain whether she wanted to admit it or not. Eliot couldn't offer her his body, but he hoped some Marlboros would suffice.

"I got your bath comin' up," he squeezed her hand and turned around to fill the tub. She looked to her left at the nightstand, finding an orange pill bottle. She squinted her eyes at the label. 'Oxycodone/Acetaminophen.' She grunted in disapproval. Oxycodone never failed to knock her out cold, which she hated. It took control out of her hands.

Her gaze then fell on her cell phone.

_Damn. _The once sleek black casing was dented, with scars of silver marring its surface where the paint had been scraped off. The front screen was cracked and she picked it up and flipped it open. The inside screen still worked. She carefully reached over with her good arm and fumbled around to dial her boss.

"Davis," she answered when he picked up the phone.

"Natalia! Good to hear your voice. How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," she heard Davis chuckle on the other line. "And you owe me a new phone," she joked with as much of a smile as she could muster.

"Hey, I'm not the one who wrecked it! When you're feeling better you can come down and pick one out yourself."

"When am I allowed back out?"

"Depends on what the doctors say, but_** I**_ say you're on mandatory leave for at least a month."

At this, Natalia started to protest.

"Look hun, I know you're not happy about it, but I need you to take it easy and get back to 100% before I put you out there again. We need you, but we need a _whole_ you, alright?"

"Yeah," she whispered.

"Feel better Natalia."

"Thanks Davis." She hung up as Eliot walked into the room.

"I've got an Epsom salt bath with your name on it momma."

"Can't wait," she tossed her phone back on the nightstand and carefully placed both legs over the edge of the bed. Only then did she notice that she was wearing only a robe of soft jersey material with a brace strapped to her right knee. Eliot gave her enough space to move, standing at the ready just in case she needed him. And he did so with good reason. No sooner had she stood up than her knee buckled and she collapsed into Eliot's waiting arms.

"Easy there momma." Eliot flinched as she let out a grunt of pain. "I've got you," he gently scooped her up, taking care to spare her shoulder and carried her into the bathroom. He gingerly set her down on the steps leading up to the tub, careful to keep his arms around her until she sat up on her own. He knelt on the tile floor and his hands moved to her knee brace, gently pulling on each Velcro strap until he could remove it. He hesitated before looking up into her green eyes.

"Do you want me to…" he gestured to the collar of her robe.

"Can't do it by myself," she whispered, and shrugged her good shoulder.

Eliot slowly, even tenderly, slipped the robe off of her body, unable to shake the gentlemanly habit of averting his eyes as he undressed her. Ordinarily the sight of her naked form would start his head spinning. You couldn't pay him to look away. But the figure before him was not the assassin who brought him to the edge of sanity with the touch of her hand, or a whisper falling from her lips.

She was vulnerable. Physically broken. At his mercy. And he was deathly afraid that he couldn't do this. Seeing her so fragile almost scared him. Amidst his thoughts he felt her fingers on his chin, tipping his face up before she stared down into his blue eyes, which glittered in the dim light of the bathroom. She looked exhausted, yes, but in her emerald orbs he saw an unconditional trust that he would sooner die than betray.

With his help, she unwrapped her shoulder and slipped into the tub, feeling the warm water envelop her. The salt in the bath stung the her scraped skin, but the pain quickly dissolved, giving way to a soothing comfort. Once Eliot was sure she was alright, he left before returning with a bag of ice and some tape which she affixed to her shoulder.

"Comfortable?"

"Very," she looked over at him while he settled on the marble ledge of the tub opposite her. He shuffled around to get something from his pocket before she heard him rip the plastic from the box of cigarettes he had bought. He placed one between his lips before lighting it and handing it to the assassin. She held it up to the side of her lips that hadn't suffered an injury and inhaled before blowing the smoke up toward the ceiling.

"You're wondering what happened aren't you?"

"It just ain't like you, is all," Eliot ran a hand through his hair.

"That's because it wasn't me." She watched the paper burn as smoke curled from the end of her cigarette before fading, leaving nothing but its pungent scent in the air. "They put me out with the new guy. Davenport was his name." Eliot made a mental note. Davenport was gonna be getting a visit real soon. "It was simple enough; drug cartel weapons cache in the states. Take out communications and guards and then let the FBI in for search and seizure. I could have done it solo, but he needed experience. He had the radio, I had the guards, the FBI was waiting down the block. I was up on the catwalk waiting for his signal but he fucked up and set off an alarm. I got off as many shots as I could on my way down to the radio. I think I smashed it just before someone let off a stun grenade."

"Stun grenade," Eliot furrowed his brow as he thought out loud, piecing the incident together bit by bit. "You hit your head when you hit the ground. Tried to break the fall with your left arm, dislocated your shoulder," his eyes darted to each injury as he spoke. "And you managed to wrench a knee somewhere in there. It wouldn't be hard."

She looked up from staring idly at the faucet and tapped her cigarette against the side of a glass ashtray. It was resting on the marble ledge amidst candles that decorated the space between the tub and the window. Evidently she had done this before.

"But your shoulder. You got back up?"

"I can barely remember slamming my shoulder back in place before I passed out."

"And the FBI got you out?"

"Don't remember. But it had to be them," she took another drag off of her cigarette.

"You're lucky you didn't get shot," his eyes flit away from hers momentarily before locking on them once again. "Or worse."

Natalia stared into the fading suds on the surface of the water, her mortality hitting her for the first time in years. Fear was never something that stopped her momentum. She lived for danger. And with the way she was, Eliot was almost afraid to say that she could afford to. She flung her entire being into everything she did, without regard for personal safety, but tempered with impeccable attention to the little details that could ultimately lead to her demise. 'Careless dies, reckless kills,' she once told him. She hadn't necessarily been wrong.

"Hey," Eliot whispered as she put her cigarette out in the ashtray.

"Yeah," her voice was small but her eyes were clear when she looked up at him once again.

He stood up from his spot across from her and bent over the tub before gently pressing his lips to hers. It was a kiss of reassurance. A kiss of validation to each that the other was actually there. And that they would stay that way.

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><p><strong>I'm thinking of maybe revisiting this situation in a later chapter... let me know what you think!<strong>


	8. When It Rains

**Title: **The Intersection of Points N and E

**Summary: **Snapshots of Eliot and Natalia's adventures over their years together.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **Finally! Here it is. I honestly thought I would have much more time to update this summer, but I've been busier than I expected on top of fighting some serious writer's block. Thank you all for being so patient and I've made this one extra smutty to make up for it ;-).

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><p><strong>Chapter 8: When It Rains…<strong>

**~July 2****nd**** 2007 ~ Oklahoma**

"Fuck." Eliot rumbled under his breath. The Oklahoma sky had turned black with clouds and a stab of lightning illuminated a point somewhere on the horizon. Natalia's flight had barely arrived on time, but the airline had managed to lose her luggage. She was surprisingly calm considering the fact that she had little more than the clothes on her back, the sandals on her feet, and a pair of aviators perched on her nose in clear defiance of the shift in weather. Eliot, however, was pissed enough for the both of them. He just hoped they could reach home before the heavens broke down and ground them to a complete halt.

"El," Natalia purred, reaching out to the back of his neck with her left hand, gently massaging out the tension she found there. She toyed with his ponytail before slipping her fingers under the collar of his t-shirt. "Relax babe."

"Natalia. All of your things are M.I.A. and it's about to rain fucking buckets, complete with thunder, lightning, and quite possibly your very own Oklahoma tornado, and yet you're actin' like you're on vacation. "

"I _am_ on vacation," she quipped. She pulled her hand away from him and fiddled with the dial on the radio, stopping when "Margaritaville" came through the speakers. "But seriously, I'm with you."

Eliot would have slammed on the brakes if he hadn't been serious about the tornado. He swore the sky was just the right color. He opted instead for a furrowed eyebrow and a tightened grip on the worn leather of the steering wheel. "What's that supposed to mean?" His glaze flit over to the passenger's side and back to the road.

Natalia unbuckled her seatbelt and slid across the truck's front seat to rest her head on Eliot's shoulder. "It means that I don't have to worry about anything when I'm around you," she tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. "We can't get my stuff back any faster than the airline can. Can't control thunder and lightning and buckets of rain. So what's the point in worrying? Ask yourself, what's the worst possible thing that can happen? We'd have to pull the truck over and you'd be stuck with me for half an hour while we wait for it to pass. Is that so terrible?" She traced her nose over his shoulder.

His mind suddenly turned to the sordid things he could do to her in half an hour. "No, momma that ain't bad," the corner of his mouth turned upwards in a smirk.

"Exactly." She lowered her voice to a husky whisper. "So stop worrying about it El."

Just then a flash of purple stabbed the sky followed by a moment of silence.

"Natalia?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Does thunder still turn you on?"

She let out a low, devilish laugh as her nose brushed his ear, her lips enveloping his earlobe just as a rumble of thunder rolled across the sky.

"There's my girl," he grinned. Another streak of lightning split the sky open and raindrops began hammering away at the windshield. Eliot flipped on the wiper blades as he turned onto the gravel path leading to his house. The sound of the rain drowned Jimmy Buffett out as the hitter managed to put the truck in park in front of the house. "You ready to make a run for it momma?" He didn't have an umbrella in the truck.

With one last glance at the drops assaulting the windshield, Eliot wrenched the door open and stepped out into the storm. He waited as Natalia slipped out of the driver's side and slammed the door before turning to make a mad dash for the porch.

"Eliot."

"What?" he whipped around and yelled over the roar of rain. Natalia's lips widened to a grin as she stood there, water soaking through her blue t-shirt and erasing her meticulously blown-out hairstyle. Something about that wild smile flipped a switch in his mind. She jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her lips to his in a searing kiss. She felt every ounce of tension he harbored suddenly drain from his body as he kissed back hard. He grabbed her ass and hoisted her onto the hood of the truck, their lips parting momentarily as she tossed her hair out of the way.

"You're insane," he growled over the rain.

"And yet you keep coming back for more," she tipped her head to the side, feigning curiosity.

"Can't help it. You fuck too good," he grinned.

Natalia let out a laugh. The sex was always good, yes, but it was their _love_ that they were addicted to.

Eliot nibbled her bottom lip as she wrapped her legs around his waist and dug her heels into the backs of his thighs. He ran his hands up the slick dark skin of her legs and over her cut-off jeans before they settled on the small of her back pressing her up against the solid muscle of his chest, and the hardness in his jeans. She arched her hips into him, unable to fight her reaction. Natalia didn't care if the heavens pelted them with enough water to wash away a lifetime of sin. This moment here – this was perfect.

Another bang of thunder sounded and he could almost feel the electricity coursing through her veins as he felt her smile against his lips. She rocked her hips against Eliot's, desperate for more friction as his mouth all but stole the breath from her throat. Another crack of thunder exploded around them, this time causing her to look up at the sky as best she could through the driving rain. It had been a bit too close for even their level of comfort.

"I think we should..." Natalia began.

"Yeah," Eliot set her down on the ground, grabbed her hand and took off toward the porch. He fumbled around in the pocket of his jeans, fighting against the saturated denim to get at his keys.

He barely pushed the door open and pulled her inside before a bolt of lightning struck near the main road they had just turned off of. The assassin slammed him against the door, lips latching to his again as another rumble of thunder shook the house. He paused for a moment to strip the shirt from his skin, tossing it without regard for where it may land. She held him against the door with her weight, but her 120 pounds were no match for him, no matter how strong she was. Eliot hoisted her up and made a start for the bedroom, taking two steps before he slipped on the wet wood floor. He landed on his back and would have smacked his head if not for her quick thinking. Natalia had wrapped an arm protectively around the back of his head, cushioning their fall.

She found herself now straddling the hitter, staring down into eyes that sparkled a mischievous blue, framed by mirth lines caused by an equally devilish smile. She peeled the wet fabric of her shirt from her skin. Eliot sat up and his hands immediately flew to cup her breasts through the cotton of her bra. She pulled the tie from his hair and grabbed fistfuls of it, letting out a breathy cry as his lips moved down her neck. He could tell she was growing impatient.

Eliot snaked a hand between them, popped the button on her jeans, and cupped her in his palm. She was wet for him already. He rubbed her through the thin fabric causing her breath to hitch in her throat and buck her hips up to his hand. The assassin was more than ready for what he had in mind.

He arched his hips up and rolled them over, covering her body with his. Natalia obliged his unspoken request and allowed him to slip off her shorts and underwear in one swift motion. He braced himself with one hand on either side of her head, bending low to growl in her ear.

"On all fours. Slut."

Her eyes flashed and a wild grin spread across her features as Eliot sat back on his haunches and waited for her to obey. Any other man and she would have smashed his face in. But when the word came from Eliot's full lips, drawled through the lower gravelly tones of his voice, it became more than acceptable. It drove her wild. He rubbed a palm over his clothed crotch before unzipping his jeans and slipping them off along with his boxer briefs. He ran his fingers down the skin of her back, cupping the perfect globes of her toned ass in his hands.

"C'mon Eliot…" She taunted.

He rubbed himself against her, taking perverse satisfaction in the throaty moans that filled the room. Eliot suddenly thrust into her, expecting her to need a few seconds to adjust, but she responded by tipping her hips back into him, taking him deeper than before. Now he was the one who needed a second. He ran his fingers through his wet hair with a groan, attempting to pull himself together. A husky, mischievous laugh from Natalia kicked him back into gear. He growled and pressed into her again, quieting her for the moment before falling into a rhythm that satisfied them both. He dug his fingers into her hips, pulling her hard against him. The wood floor was slick and Natalia's hands fought to keep her upright against Eliot's pounding. He leaned down to cover her back with his chest, bracing himself on the floor as he drove into her. The hitter's nose brushed her ear, his hot breath ghosting across her damp cheek.

He moved one hand down over her stomach to rub her clit, causing her to press harder against his fingers. Sweat mingled with water across hot skin and breathy moans competed with the raindrops pelting the roof. Natalia arched her back into him and wrapped an arm backwards over his neck, tangling her long fingers in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him grunt. Eliot slammed into her harder, and immediately she returned her hand to the slick floor to restore her balance. He allowed more of his weight to press against her back, and soon her arms were screaming in protest.

"Eliot…" Natalia panted a warning. She was about to drop both of them flat on the floor.

"Down," he pulled his hand away from her, supporting his own weight long enough for her to brace herself on her forearms. He laid his palm flat on the small of her back, pressing her whole body down to the floor. She cried out at the shock of the cool wood against her burning skin, the sound causing Eliot's dick to twitch. He slipped back inside her, thrusting slowly as his skin once again found hers and his lips brushed the tattoo on the back of her neck. He gently wrapped a hand around her throat and jaw, pulling her face up to his. Eliot ran his tongue over her full bottom lip and gently nipped it. Natalia craned her neck to kiss him as deeply as she could. What was deliciously deep and unrelenting seconds before was now soft and impossibly sensual. The languid sweep of his tongue against hers and the slow grinding of his hips sent shivers across her damp skin. His weight on her back was as protective as it was erotic. It all overloaded her senses. She let out a low moan and pulled away from him in an effort to catch her breath. Natalia rested her head on her forearms, her fingers practically clawing at the hardwood. Eliot knew she was close.

With every ounce of self control he had left, Eliot flipped her over and sheathed himself inside her again. She was the picture of perfection. Her huge emerald eyes were shut and her head was tipped back against the floor, pronouncing her jaw line and exposing her neck. Eliot couldn't resist. "Go on babe," he leaned down to growl in her ear before trailing his tongue over her jugular vein. Natalia gasped and clutched handfuls of his wet, brown hair, holding on as if letting go would mean losing him forever. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her soft cries growing in intensity as Eliot felt her walls begin to tighten. He thrust into her as deep as her body would allow, her strong muscles clenching around him sent Eliot over the edge. She arched her back, and he buried his nose in the crook of her neck, his growls rumbling against her chest as he filled her. Natalia unconsciously held her breath, concentrating her every sense on the orgasm that ripped through her. Out of the corner of his eye, Eliot caught a glimpse of her parted lips and captured them between his own, slowly grinding his hips against hers, riding out the aftershocks coursing through their bodies.

Eliot rolled off of her and onto the floor, landing with a hard thud against the wood, and a wide grin on his face. Natalia let out an impish laugh and rolled over onto her stomach, resting her chin on his shoulder, still trying to catch her breath. She stared up at his flushed face with big liquid eyes.

He angled his blue-gray gaze down at her. "I told you. You fuck too good."

Thirty minutes and a shower later, Eliot lay in bed with an arm around Natalia's waist, his nose buried in her damp, freshly washed curls. She was clothed in his University of Oklahoma t-shirt that was so ancient that the red dye had faded to a shade of pink. The rain had stopped, and he stared idly past her shoulder at the steam rising from the hot gravel. He could feel each intake of her breath against his chest and filled his lungs with the scent of her hair. She never failed to set off every one of his senses. He gently ran a hand down her side, over the soft fabric of his shirt, and the even softer velvet of her skin where the material ended on the curve of her hip. She smelled faintly of his lotion, which she had used after her shower. The scent that had been so mundane now melded with the perfume of her skin, turning it into something new entirely. This really was all that mattered. Not her lost luggage, not the weather, not anyone else in the world. This was his Natalia. This was his perfection.


	9. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**Okay guys, I apologize for getting you all excited with a notification about nothing, but this here is just a little note from me...which may or may not contain a fun surprise.**

**I've pretty much settled back into a normal routine, which means more updates in a time frame that won't drive you all insane! (And for that, I do apologize.) **

**BUT, they will not necessarily be on this story since I have what, I hope, will be a cool idea for a new one! It is a bit different from my normal modus operandi in that it's more of a mission than Eliot and Natalia's usual get-togethers. I've never really done this much of a structured plot before, so I hope it will all make sense and not fall apart midway through. **

** I do hope to still update this story periodically. I got most of the ideas for this one while writing Havana and Boston. These are the chapters that didn't fit into those, and I anticipate the new story will bring some new ideas as well. **

**Well, I've blabbered on enough. The new story will be named "Miami" and will most likely be up tomorrow (I just have some last minute proofreading to do.) I want to say thank you all of my readers for being so awesome and the reviewers for being _extra_ awesome! I hope you guys will really like what I've got planned!  
><strong>


	10. She's Still Here

**Title: **The Intersection of Points N and E

**Summary: **Snapshots of Eliot and Natalia's adventures over their years together.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **Alright guys, this is just a random drabble that's the product of 20 minutes and a line that just popped into my head. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy.

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><p><strong>Chapter 9: Still Here<strong>

**~May 2****nd**** 2004 ~ Oklahoma**

Eliot lay on his back, arms behind his head, body cradled in the disheveled cotton of his bed sheets. She had gone hours before and yet, somehow, she was still here.

As though the trace of her clung to the air.

It wasn't a perfume. It wasn't even the scent of her skin. It was _her._

It was the way she moved across the hardwood floor; the way it creaked under her delicate feet. The way she looked standing in the doorway fresh out of the shower, her hair in unruly ringlets as wild as she was. He could swear she was still sitting in that old armchair, slipping stockings of silk over the legs that had carried her away from him. Her laugh rang out through the unbearable silence and mirth glittered in the emerald green of her eyes.

The air still crackled with her energy.

There was life, yes, but it remained intangible. Existing on the fringe of his mind, just out of his senses' reach. He shut his eyelids and made a desperate grab for something – anything – that would materialize. But the wind blew outside, causing the ancient oak to scrape its branches across the roof, the sound dissolving any chance of his success.

When he opened his eyes he was staring at the dismal drywall of the ceiling, which was staring back at him. He frowned at a crease that ran through it, long ago caused by the house settling. After a moment's pause he rolled over onto his stomach and reached for his phone - his restlessness abated when - finally - Natalia spoke his name on the other end of the line.


	11. An Angel

**Title: **The Intersection of Points N and E

**Summary: **Snapshots of Eliot and Natalia's adventures over their years together.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **Now, I know I'm supposed to be writing Miami, but I keep getting ideas for this story! This is another short based on a line that just came to me. From Eliot's perspective. Gets a little heavy, but I hope you all enjoy.

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><p><strong>Chapter 10: An Angel<strong>

**~November 12****th**** 1998 ~ School**

She's got these ringlets that curl in her hair. They wrap around your finger like a baby's hand, holding on and never wanting to let you go. And they're so soft that you don't ever wanna pull away. They're the kind of curls you see on angels at Christmastime.

But Natalia, well, I don't know that angel's the right word.

Not because she's got a mouth dirtier than sin and hands that'll either make quick work of you, or make ya suffer all night long. No. She ain't no angel because angels are supposed to save people.

And s_he's _the one who needs savin'.

She fell asleep right here in my arms not too long ago. Her cheeks have barely dried from the tears. From what I could tell, her Daddy called earlier.

That almost never ends well.

He don't yell and he don't cuss. I think what he does is worse.

He never says he's proud of her.

Ain't that all a girl wants? For her Daddy to be proud of her? That ain't so much to ask. If he is, he don't say it. And I think that's just as bad as not bein' proud at all. She busted her ass in school for him and all he asked her is what she was doin' next. Never even stopped to appreciate how far she'd come. Maybe that's why she's here.

Because honestly, _here_ ain't where she's supposed to be.

Girls like her shouldn't be pickin' up guns. She's too smart. Too pretty. She should be kickin' ass in a law office. Savin' someone's life in a hospital. Makin' people feel somethin' on a movie screen. She should be off breakin' hearts, not learnin' to put bullets in 'em. I think she does it because she don't feel like she's good enough for that. Because her Daddy never said he was proud of her. And if you can't make Daddy proud, who the hell else can you?

He always says that she never calls and he don't ever get a chance to talk to her. She just nods her head and tells him she's been busy, but when she hangs up, I see the rest of it. I see the tears. I'm the one she tells it all to. She never calls him because all he asks is how classes are going. And if she's on the right track to graduation. She says she don't call him because he never talked to her when she was at home. She doesn't understand why it makes a difference now. Honestly, I don't either.

I think he should just leave her be. Because it doesn't sound like he's gonna fix things anytime soon. There ain't no point in callin' just to make her cry.

But I guess he ain't the one who sees the tears.

She told me once one night when we were all tangled up in my sheets, that she's afraid to have a family. She's afraid to bring someone into a world where it's so easy to show someone you care, and still no one ever does. Hurtin' comes as easy as breathin'. She's afraid that her kid would end up like her.

When she was a baby she used to be the center of his world. But then life happened, I guess, and his world started spinnin' around somethin' else. He said he worked so hard so that she could have everything she ever wanted. What he didn't realize is that all she wanted was a daddy. And now it's too late for him to fix it. He can't give her back her childhood. And she wouldn't dream of putting her own child through that.

It makes me wanna marry her just to prove her wrong. Show her that a daddy can love his baby and her momma more than anything in the world. I wanna show her that the world ain't as bad as she thinks it is. I wanna give her enough love to last the rest of her life and then some, just to make up for the years she lost.

I want that for her.

Natalia don't seem broken when you look at her. She looks like an angel right here, right now, asleep on ringlets of black silk. The moonlight's started to fall on them and I'll be damned if it don't look like a halo around that pretty little head of hers. But she ain't no angel. She _needs_ an angel.

Now, I'm nowhere close to divine. But I can damn well try to save her.


	12. Shattered

**Title: **The Intersection of Points N and E

**Summary: **Snapshots of Eliot and Natalia's adventures over their years together.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **To everyone who asked, yes this story is still being updated! Thank you to all the readers, new and old. Here's another chapter for you guys. Might get a little heavy.

**Potential warnings for a car crash and head trauma.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 11: Shattered<strong>

**~October 9th**** 2011 ~ Russia**

Somehow he's found her. If he's honest, even he's not sure how. Or why for that matter. It was just something he needed to do. Some sort of overwhelming compulsion. An idea whispered in his ear by an angel or a demon or some combination of the two.

_If you don't get to her, we will._

It's underneath his skin, itching and burning, and the only salve in the world that can soothe it is having her safe in his arms.

He barely recognizes the figure that opens the door to that fucking shithole in Moscow.

But the Colt pointed in his face assures him it really is her.

"Oh God," she whispers as the gun falls, clattering solidly on the floor. In an instant she's in his arms and he knows it's all horribly wrong.

She ushers him in and unnecessarily busies herself with tidying up in silence, and he can't help but notice all the things she's struggling to hide. He picks the gun up off the floor and latches the safety, spying an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts as he puts it down on a duffel that's still full of MREs.

She hasn't been eating.

It shows.

She weakly straightens a threadbare blanket over a mattress that's been flattened by decades of abuse. She checks nervously under the pillow to make sure her knife is still there. He lets his jacket fall and takes a seat on the frigid cement floor, unable to stop Gordon's call from ringing in his ears.

The one about her car being smashed between a Range Rover and a tree at upwards of 50 mph. The one about how she got out and put a bullet in that rival agent's head because she doesn't appreciate attempted murder - and she really fucking liked that A4.

They said she set off the emergency trigger on her phone. The one she's never used before. Twelve minutes later, Agency responders found her unconscious on the scene. He has to blink hard to block out the images that sweep over him like a wave of nausea.

_She's fine but she sustained head trauma._

Well fuck you Gordon, head trauma doesn't mean fine.

She's so small in front of him, nearly drowning in a sweater that used to cling, hidden behind a mess of dark hair that falls in pained eyes. Even now, stupidly broken and lost, she's making him tea and tucking a lock of hair behind his ear because she loves him more than she loves herself.

"I'm fine Eliot, I've got it," she snaps when he scrambles to help pick up the sachets of tea that have fallen from uncoordinated fingers. He forces his hands past her words and does the deed himself, only to be met by her angry failed attempts at trying to slap his hands away.

"Natalia," the voice that comes out isn't even something he recognizes as his own. He reaches to comfort her. She fights.

"I'm fine, let go, I'm fine, I'M FINE," she hits and shrieks until he finally spins her around and gets his arms around a too thin waist. There, with her back to his chest, all of her strength fades and she shatters. He can feel the searing hot tears begin to spread over his arms.

They sink to the ground and she curls in his lap like a child. As he cradles her head to his chest, his fingers accidentally brush the scar on her temple. His stomach churns again.

She manages arms around his neck and "I can't do this," comes out encased in a sob.

He knows. She doesn't have to explain. She has all the right moves but her brain won't let her use them. Synapses won't fire and she can't will, trick, or beat them into submissive cooperation. She doesn't know what else to do because there's nothing else she can.

"You don't have to, momma. You don't have to."

She never hears him. Already exhaustion has her in its hold and her eyes have drifted closed. Her sobs have smoothed out into gentle breaths that ghost across his skin. He holds her just a bit tighter.

He knows he'd be in tears if the anger wasn't what hit him first. The kind of anger that could tear down the entire city before training its sights on the world. He hates the car that had to crash into hers. Fucking hates Davis for putting her out here when he knows what happened. This isn't even her part of the world. He hates her for being so goddamn stubborn and pretending that her world isn't actually fifty kinds of fucked up.

Perhaps most of all, he hates that there's no promise it will ever be right again.

Eliot scoops her up as gently as he can, laying her down on the mattress and pulling the blankets up around her shoulders. He rakes a hand through his hair when he stands, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. There are papers spread all over the drawing table and it doesn't take him long to piece all the bits together. He finds the mark's picture and stares into a pair of inky black eyes.

"Vetrov," he whispers, testing the syllables on his tongue. He folds the paper, stuffs it into his back pocket, stoops to pick up his jacket, and grabs the Colt from where he left it.

Tonight, Vetrov dies.

Tonight, Natalia goes home in his arms.

Tonight, everything is that simple. And if anyone tries to stop him…

Tonight, only God can help them.


End file.
